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Topic: Victory at the Fortmount...at a cost (Read 2092 times)

The companions made their way back down through the lower tunnels of the fortmount and towards the crypt. Maccabeus walked beside Wolf, having called upon Mahiya's strength to mend his companion's wounds. Maccabeus did his level best to help carry the body of his fallen companion: Ragner.

It felt much to him like a funeral march, and he was conflicted a bit regarding Ragnar's death. On the one hand, the noble Protector had fallen honorably, fighting the foul foe that was the shadewolf, and Maccabeus would miss his presence.

On the other hand, Ragnar had entered into the next revolution of the Great Cycle, and we now free of the fears that he had grappled with in this life.

Birth to a new death, death to a new birth he thought as they moved through the subterranian tunnels.

He found himself quietly humming a dirge from the Dale, celebrating the Great Cycle and his friend's part in it.

Severen looked upon Ragnar’s body as the troupe made their way through the old tunnels. He felt no sadness in the death but only joy. He had witnessed the passage of a soul from this world to the next.

It took great resolve for him to restrain the urge to bring him back under his image…the image of Takhisis. What a wonderful minion he would make! But his respect for the ways of the proper death rites held him in check. He had an understanding with Takhisis and it would not begrudge him the calling he felt he was to play as a steward of death.

Still, Ragnar would make a beautiful tool for what he hoped would come to pass. To see the dark light of his soul burning within the shell of what he was but only then purified to intention filled Severen with a hunger…a hunger that had to be quelled.

“Perhaps the shadwolves…” he thought to himself. He needed to feel a soul and grasp it within his fist. A smirk came across his face as he marched through the tunnels back to the cursed daylight. The shadewolves would do nicely...maybe even better than the crystal skinned Maenad. What better way to strike back at the heretics than with their own kind?

Severen feasted upon the delicious irony that would unfold. Now he only had to get back into the Keep to enjoy preparing the meal.

Bastian walked silently, scowling at the ground. Though he knew that death was a natural part of life, it'd been his job to prevent it as much as possible. Tonight, though he survived, he felt that he'd failed.

He took a deep breath and lamented the fact that he had been bested by his long time opponent: death. He swore an oath that one day, he'd be strong enough to undo it.

The thought made him a little uncomfortable in the presence of Severen. Bastions job was to prevent that which Severen's job was to celebrate and revel in. Bastion didn't miss the look of satisfaction and pleasure just below the surface of the dark priest's face, and he feared that their two respective jobs in this town would conflict often. He only hoped that they could allow one another to do their jobs with mutual respect.

The burden of the body was mostly his, and Aelath'ha felt the weight of it more in his heart than on his arms and shoulders. He barely knew Ragnar, at least, insomuch in comparison to his somber friends walking alongside their fallen comrade.

He could see that each of them were deep in thought upon him. He tried as hard as he could to carry the body with as much dignity as could be afforded what had to be a departure of haste.

Maccabeus clicked and clucked a moment as, moving along the long, long corridor that would lead them to the basement of the Cliffside Inn, he felt as though they had cleared teh more dangrous areas and were in a safer stage of their retreat.

"I think that I can be better put to use in flying ahead and getting Julius on-hand for a debriefing. Mayhap I can secure a sheet so that Ragnar can emerge with some privacy (I hear tell that tall folks value that sort of thing after they're dead)."

He hopped up on Wolf's broad, shaggy back and looked about for anyone who might prefer that he stay. Not seeing any objection, he thumped Wolf's neck and the great beast shot off towards the Inn in search of the Councillor.

"I'm not sure the public are aware that you or I are part of the protectorate at all. I think they think it's much fewer in number than it really is." Bastion said.

"Though, yes, I agree, keeping him concealed would be prudent. Perhaps there's a bed or something in the Inn upstairs he could... rest? I know there's no one staying here for the time being... I'm sure I could find safe haven for him in the Temple."

A silky smirk came to Severen’s lips once again at Aelath”ha’s distinction. They truly did not know his ways and he secretly enjoyed the caution that was generated by that. Still, there was a touch of resentment drawn from the elf’s tone. There was trust enough to ask for his help through this whole thing but when it came to the dead, his domain…more than anyone else’s here…there was then mistrust.

“No matter” Severen thought, “it will always be this way.”

“That is probably best elfling. Ragnar bears the mark of a Xanthakos slave…” Severen stated revealing the eye mark on the back of his hand “…so I would hardly think that he was a follower of Takhisis. Besides, he didn’t like me anyway.”

The common room was empty. However, Maccabeus heard a cacophony outside. Through the windows he see could a crowd of people gathered at the crossroads between the Rosewalk and the Wolfsong bridges. From his initial assessment he gathered that the wolves howling inside the Fortmount made towns people anxious and kept Julius and some of the other council members busy answering questions.

Maccabeus opened the door to the inn to a large amount of people, some Maccabeus knew as townsfolks and others were travelers, gathered around Julius, Stormhunter, and Rainfire. He could hear Svenias voice but could not see her.

Random questions and comments came from the crowd. “What was that howl?” , “I think it came from the castle”, “Are they going to attack again?”, “This is the work of the Dark Priest!!”, “What are you going to do about it?”

All these questions came at once and Julius found himself in the middle of all of it. The mass of people seemed more concerned than angry, save a few. The outcry of the people came as such a furious pace that Julius hadn’t any time to address any of statements or inquiries.

Maccabeus then heard someone shout, “THERE!” and saw a middle aged man point in his direction. Wolf shook with a start and Maccabeus could feel the tension well within his brother. The crowd turned around and regarded Maccabeus….some with suspicion, others with accusation. What came to Maccabeus’s attention straight away was that it was not he who was the focus but rather, Wolf.